Omnibus in foro S.P.D.

New writing.  New direction for me.  Feedback welcomed.


Spooky Regards,

Bone Mother Belle


ENDLESS 03/18/2018

If you were to ask me,

how I felt about thee,

I could not give one answer,

But I would give many,

My feelings for you are bottomless,

it depths like oceans,

My passion for you,

scorches the dry earth in flames,

A bountiful cornucopia of emotions,

All about you,

At the edges of the world,

I will wait to catch you,

When your soul is torn asunder,

I will love thee,

When you fall to your knees,

by the burdens you carry,

I will love thee,

When you take your last breath,

upon my kiss,

I will love thee,

So you will know in the end,

even in death I loved thee.

© 2018 T.B. Morte 




Omnibus in foro S.P.D.

Sometimes you think you meet “The One” and you find out they are simply not part of the dream. As always feedback appreciated.


Spooky Regards,


Sleepless 10/11/2017

Get thee to sleep,
Close thine eyes in the knowing,
You have lost something,
That others have fought to grab,
There for the taking,
Yet you squandered,
Foolish beyond measure,
No tears to be shed,
There is still solace to be found,
Places elsewhere hold comfort,
Yet the brightest treasure shines,
Even in the darkest depths,
There it will remain locked in place,
Only opened to whoever holds the rightful key,
Get thee to sleep,
Close thine eyes and dream,
In knowing you will still have to seek,
For the treasure will only open to those that wear the crown,
and you are not the King.

©2017 T.B. Morte aka Neylinn Foa-Vulpes


Your Suicidal Doll

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A new offering of bones for the garden please enjoy the following selection.  Feedback always appreciated.


Spooky regards,

Bone Mother Belle ❤


Your Suicidal Doll 05/31/2017

Into the abysmal night she flew,

away from the gossamer webs,

far from the shadows of pale light,

The doll ran far away,

It was all she could do,

To hide the truth,

So that no one could see,

That the doll was falling apart,

Imperfections that could no longer be masked,

Everyone would see the ugly truth,

There would be whispers,

Words that traveled,

A reputation ruined that was held dear,

So into the abysmal night she flew,

To find her oblivion,

No one would care,

No being would grieve,

She will only be remembered,

By the way she so deceived,

And so into the night she flew,

To find a death that was worthy,

The worth of a doll.

© 2017 T.B. Morte



Scheherazade’s Ending

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Its been a while since reading the  tales of Scheherazade, but what always fascinated me was that she used her wit to survive.  With this piece I wanted to use that same  aspect but the outcome to be much different indeed.

Scheherazade’s Ending 09/28/2016

I didn’t choose the harem life,

The harem life chose me,

From a young child,

Taken away,

Handed over,

I don’t remember,

For its all in the same,

I am entwined in the Caliphate,

To be sometimes cherished,

On occasion adored,

A face among many other flowers,

The wife of the Sultan,

Its privileges I am blessed with,

And its curses as well,

Devoted to one man till my dying breath,

Although my devotion will never be matched,

And often incurred is my husband’s wrath,

The flowers of the garden are often weeded out and replaced,

I did not chose the harem life don’t you see,

The harem life chose me,

I have learned it is better to be the rose,

Than the prickly thorn,

Lash after lash,

I learned it was not wise,

To speak out against the mighty Caliph,

My fellow flowers,

Who also felt the sting,

Did not agree,

So by under the Moon’s brightest beam,

I bore witness,

One by one,

They took their vengeance,

With  the sharpest of blades,

Piercing the Sultan’s skin,

Till there was nothing left of him,

My caste becoming a widow,

I did not chose the harem life,

The harem life chose me,

For it  is against the law,

To strike the skin of the Sultan,

For it is against the laws of the Harem,

to be without their Master,

The punishment is slow death,

Today I became a widow,

It is also the day that I shall die.


©2016 T.B.Morte











The Fallen Queen

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A follow-up to my recent alternate Snow -White fairy tale. From the POV of “The Sweet Prince”.  Enjoy ❤ Belleen


The Fallen Queen 09/13/2016

Dark was my heart,

pale was her skin,

she loved me still,

it echoed through me,

Would she love me still,

if she really understood,

that I was more monster than man,

Damned beyond forgiveness,


I am no longer the Prince,

But an aconite of lust,

The vassal of the Queen,

made of flesh and bone,

Her whim is my command,

No matter how perverse,

Its the only world I know,

This cascade of  exquisite darkness,


The Queen was captured,

My beloved made sure of that,

Her wrath swaddled in justice,

As my captor was made to dance in hot irons,

Her cries brought  a silent agony,

Our endgame  destroyed too soon,


She will slowly die,

And I along with her,

My sweet Princess,

Can she feel my secret pain?

Will she love me still,

If she knew the truth,

That I loved the woman,

who is dying in the fire,


The princess whose pale as snow,

Conquered the fallen queen,

But destroyed the heart of  what she claimed to have loved the most,

The Prince  the creature of the Queen.


©2016 T.B. Morte






The Villetry of Fae

Omnibus in foro S.P.D.

It seems we are clearly in the Alternate Fairy Tale phase again.  Please enjoy the following selection.

Spooky Regards,

Bone Mama Belleen


The Villetry of Fae 09/01/2016

There lies our dearest Beauty,
Deep in slumber,
Wrapped in gossamer,
Guarded by cobweb,
For an eternity,
Our beauty will slumber,

For there was no choice,
The spell had to be cast,
It was for the best,
Although many tears were shed,
To protect what we loved,
Against the others,
More importantly against Beauty herself,

This spell was cast before,
To salve Maleficent’s curse,
Beauty would receive true love’s kiss,
And things would begin anew,

There was another part of the curse,
No one knew save yet Maleficent,
It died with her as the prince destroyed her,
The kiss of the Prince carried the trace of Insanity,

As our Beauty awakened with life,
She could only see death,
So death she caused,
Her thirst for bloodlust could not be slaked,

Her Father the King battered and tortured,
Next was her mother the Queen burnt at the stake,
Quick work was made of the Prince with a beheading,
My sisters Flora and Fauna met a fate worse than death,
Their wings were ripped and torn asunder,
I being left the only survivor,

For what is a fairy without their wings?
Our beauty did this,
The princess we loved as a babe,
Guarded as a child,
Our Beauty in the end Maleficent’s gift,

So the spell was cast,
I muttered the incantation with a heavy heart,
As I became the villain,
Beauty fell into the deepest of slumbers,
This time no Prince to come with a rescuing kiss,
Only I the fairy Merriweather to watch over her,
Till the end of days,

My Briar Rose,
My darling Beauty,
My bane made of thorns.

©2016 T.B.Morte

Dead Men Tell No Tales

Dead Men Tell No Tales 07/27/2016

Dead men tell no tales,

At least that is what has been told to thee,

As my love and I oscillated towards the sea,

Further into the waves we danced to and fro,

The kelp wrapping around  our ankles,

While cuttlefish tickled our toes,

Further into the sea we were pulled,

I was not afraid for I felt at home,

As I looked into my lover’s eyes,

Beguiled he was deeply enchanted ,

Failed to noticed the water levels had risen,

Or that my form had changed,

My legs gone replaced by spined fish tail,

Propelling us deeper into the ocean,

I heard my love cry out as his lungs were filled with salt water,

The lack of oxygen did him in,

Pity my jolly sailor bold,

As he went  limp in my arms,

I released my love and watched his body float towards the depths below,

Pity that he loved  a siren,

His story will be kept silent forever by his death,

For a dead man cannot tell a mermaid’s tale.

©2016 T.B. Morte



On the Eighth Day

On the Eighth Day 05/10/2016

On the eighth day she was given oblivion,

it was a solution to all the madness,

it was said it would take away all the pain,

On the seventh day she was given heartbreak,

she knew the way that knife could cut,

seductively and with precision along her skin,

On the sixth day she was given indecision,

the roads so twisted where one nightmare ended,

another nightmare began,

On the fifth day she was given temptation,

a beguiling gift of extravagant grandeur,

sweet was temptation but left her bitter,

On the fourth day she was given illusion,

the power to make everything beautiful,

hiding the marred with optical glamors,

On the third day she was given love eternally,

a gift she knew would not remain immortal,

Loved she did eternally  both a blessing and curse,

On the second day she was given Chaos,

A friend in discord was a friend indeed,

chaos and discord made great bedfellows,

On the first day she was given the knife,

the knife she kept close to her heart,

the knife to find her oblivion.

©2016 T.B. Morte




The Snow Garden (New Fairy Tale Poem)

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Here is a second helping preview of “When Once Upon A Dream”.  This is another poem.  The particular piece is indeed based off of Snow White.  It’s a POV from the Evil Queen when Snow White is still a child.  Its supposed to be poem that gives you chills as  you read.  Lets hope I was successful 🙂



Bone Mama Belle


The Snow Garden 08/10/2014

I see you playing in the garden,

full of innocence,

beaming the radiance,

of a perfect child,


Lips red as the rose,

Hair black as ebony,

Skin white as snow,


You are a beauty,

As far as looks would go,


Should I be jealous?


That one day your beauty,

could one day overpower mine?


The day will come,

when the populace will no longer speak of the Queen,

but boast of Snow White,


Or should I school you now,

in the price you will pay,

For the vanity you will inherit,


Shall I be cruel?

Or should I be most kind?


Neither choice will earn your love,

Not that I want your affections,


I crave your fear,

as well as your despair,

And ultimately your beauty,


Lips red as the rose,

Hair black as ebony,

Skin white as snow,


So I will watch you play in the garden,

As a wolf watches a doe,

Waiting for the moment to strike,

which will be years to come,


Then everyone will see,

Who really is the fairest of them all. © T.B. Morte 


From the Collection : “When Once Upon A Dream ” ©  T.B. Morte 2014

Snow becomes Red (The Snow In the Garden) ***New Fairy Tale Poem***

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This is a preview piece of my new WIP (tenatively titled “When Once Upon A Dream”)  It is going to be a fairy tale anthology of poetry, short stories, and nursery rhymes told from a “dark” perspective.


The selection below is my version of “Snow White & Rose Red”  originally written by the Brothers Grimm.



Bone Mama Belle



The Snow in the Garden 08/10/2014

“What one has she must share with the other.”


It was a line our Mother often said.


She spoke it when we were children,

small and petite when we really

did love one another,


She reminded us when we grew older,

when we were no longer small but

sprouts that grew taller,

And our affection towards one another had

diminished some,


She demanded this of us,

when we became young women,

And our hearts were subject to the whims of men,

The love between two sisters faded into memory,


As the years have gone by,

seasons change,

as has my perspective,


I no longer love the person,

whose hand I held so dear,


I will break the vow,

I swore,


I promised to never leave you,

Never so long as we live,

My sweet sister,

Rose Red,


I leave you in the garden,

along with Mother,

Dead and buried,

both done by my own hand,


For I could not share with you,

The Kingdom,

The Crown,

Or The Glory,


There can only be one Queen,

Her name is Snow White,

And not Rose Red.

© T.BMorte 


From the Anthology Collection:  “When Once Upon A Dream” © T.B. Morte 2014